by Rose Pressey
Sometimes Van liked to walk on his leash, but right now, I held him in my arms, because he’d gotten tired from all the excitement. Plus, he loved being snuggled up next to me. I enjoyed the cuddling just as much. We were like two peas in a pod. I suspected he’d perk up when we neared the corn dog vendor.
“Oh, look, there are the candy apples.” Sammie pointed. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
“I want caramel with nuts.” I sounded like a kid again.
Sammie and I approached the stand that sold the apples, cotton candy, and pretzels. It would be hard to walk away with just one. The junk food aroma wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble to attention.
I’d just paid for my apple when Sammie said, “Don’t look now, but your family’s here.”
“What?” I said. “They weren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”
“I guess they changed their minds,” she said with a grimace.
I loved my family dearly, but if trouble followed me, then double trouble followed them. Chaos trailed along with them like a tornado swirling across the sky, destroying everything in its path. The fair wouldn’t know what hit when they got through with it.
“Have they seen us yet?” I asked, trying to hide behind a tall, bald-headed man next to me in line.
The man pinched his eyebrows together and moved up a couple of steps.
“Oh, you know you’re not going to be able to hide from them,” Sammie said. “Plus, yes, they’ve seen us. They’re practically running toward us. Bless their hearts.”
I turned around and made eye contact with my mother. She gave a half-hearted wave, as if to apologize. My brother Stevie accidentally knocked over a trash can as he lumbered toward me. Hank plodded along beside Stevie. They were carbon copies of my dad. Average height, but solidly built like wrecking balls. Their dark hair hadn’t grayed like my father’s yet, but if they kept up their frantic pace, it probably wouldn’t be long. Either that, or they’d turn my hair gray. Maybe both.
My brothers saw nothing in front of them, because they focused on one thing at a time. Right now, that one thing was me. They looked like babies learning to walk for the first time as they bounded toward me. Sammie and I stared at my family, unable to take our eyes off them.
“Only one trash can down. Not too bad,” Sammie said, taking a bite of her apple.
“Let’s step away from the food stand in case they crash into it,” I said.
“Good thinking,” Sammie said around a laugh.
Sammie and I walked toward them. Van wiggled in my arms, deciding he wanted down again. I placed him on the ground, and he trotted along beside me on his leash. When my family neared us, my dad’s mouth tilted to one side in his signature grin, but then he headed toward the food stand like a bloodhound sniffing out a clue. My mother hurried after him.
“Eddie, where do you think you’re going?” she yelled. “No, you don’t need a corn dog. You just had supper.”
No doubt he’d get the corn dog anyway, and probably a couple of other things in the process. I supposed tonight would be okay, just this once, as long as he was good on his healthy eating plan for the rest of the week. My mom had her hands full between watching after my dad and my brothers.
“How’s it going, Sis?” my brother Stevie asked.
“Just checking out the fair, guys. What are y’all into? Staying out of trouble, I hope. Not destroying anything?”
That was more of a plea than a question. They didn’t catch the hint, though.
“Hey, what does that mean? You’re always thinking the worst, aren’t you? Don’t be so negative.” The small scar above Hank’s lip became more noticeable when he snarled. He’d bitten an electrical cord as a baby. My mother claimed that had given him a special talent at fixing electronics.
“What’s up, Sammie?” Stevie studied his boots as if he were somehow suddenly bashful.
When Sammie flashed her perfect smile, Hank winked at her, and Stevie shoved him. They’d always had a thing for Sammie. I’d cautioned her not to get involved with dating either one. Not that they weren’t sweet and great brothers, but I wasn’t sure Sammie was the best match for either one.
“We’re here for the celebrity impersonation show. Mom and Dad want to see it,” Stevie said.
“When does it start?” I asked and then took a bite of my apple. Nuts that had been stuck to the caramel dropped onto my T-shirt.
“In about five minutes. Are you going?” Stevie asked, though his attention was focused on Sammie.
After brushing the crumbs from my shirt, I turned to Sammie. “What do you say? Should we watch the show with this bunch?”
She finished her bite of apple, and then said, “Sure, why not?”
“Who performs first?” I asked.
Stevie shrugged his muscular shoulders. “I don’t know for sure, maybe Patsy Cline. There’s a big Elvis grand finale.”
“Oh, I’m most looking forward to Elvis,” I said excitedly.
“Who isn’t?” Sammie said, practically swooning.
“You like Elvis, Sammie? I do a good Elvis impersonation.” Stevie swayed his hips.
I groaned. “Please don’t ever do that again.”
Stevie and Hank spoke to a couple of people they knew.
“I have to hand it to them. Your brothers like to have a good time.” Sammie tossed the remainder of her candy apple into the nearby trash can.
“Don’t remind me,” I said.
After my mother and father joined us, we headed toward the stage to watch the show. My dad, of course, had a giant corn dog with mustard slathered over it. Not only had he gotten the corn dog, but he’d managed to finagle the jumbo-sized one that they had advertised on the poster in front of the concession stand.
“I see dad won the battle,” I said as my mother walked beside me.
Van wagged his tail as my mom scratched behind his ears.
“I told him that’s the only one for today,” she said.
I raised an eyebrow. “The only one corn dog or the only one treat?”
“That one corn dog is the only treat he’s getting, of course,” she said without confidence.
I knew that he wouldn’t pay attention to her. My father had diabetes and other health issues, so my mother was always after him to watch what he ate. Tonight, she would have a battle on her hands. There was just too much temptation.
I was torn between wanting him to be happy, getting what he wanted, and wanting him to be healthy and stick around with us longer. I didn’t want to lose him. I looked over and saw how happy my father was as he walked along with his family, enjoying his corn dog. I suppose I was a lot like him. Everyone said I was just like my mother. Of course, we looked alike, with the same dark hair and eyes, but I had a lot of my father’s traits, too. Without a doubt, I had my quirky moments.
My family and I gathered in front of the stage. A large banner announced the FIFTH ANNUAL MUSIC LEGENDS T RIBUTE CONTEST. My brothers fought over who would stand next to Sammie. Ultimately, they figured out one could stand on each side of her. Speakers flanked the front of the stage, with multi-colored spotlights shining toward where the performers would stand. Other lights shone out into the crowd. The sky had turned completely dark, with a million stars twinkling in the black expanse. The temperature was perfect for the event at a pleasant seventy degrees. A microphone was in the middle of the stage, waiting for a performer to take stage. People were crammed together, waiting for the action to start.
A warm, gentle breeze carried across the crowd. Even with the perfect conditions, a sense of uneasiness fell over me. What was wrong? Why did I feel so antsy? The evening had been perfect so far. I had to shake off the feeling. Nothing would bother me as soon as the show started. At least, that was what I tried to tell myself. So why was it not working? Why did the feeling remain?
Movement caught my attention. At the corner of the stage, I saw a shadowy figure moving away from the area. I couldn’t quite make out
what the person was doing, but something about their actions seemed suspicious to me. As if they were sneaking around, specifically trying not to be caught. Why would they do that? I contemplated walking over there to see what they were doing, but I reminded myself to stay out of trouble. Whatever they were doing was none of my business. They were probably just setting up equipment for tonight’s performance. I watched the area for several more seconds to see if the person returned, but they had disappeared from sight. I turned my attention back to the stage. No need to worry, I reminded myself.
Band members filed onto the stage and picked up instruments. More lighting lit up the dark sky. Even more people had gathered around, waiting for the show to start. After a couple more minutes, Patsy Cline stepped on the stage. Well, not the real Patsy, of course, but an impressive look-alike. She opened her mouth, and the melodic lyrics flowed. She sang one of my favorite songs, “Why Can’t He Be You.” My mom and dad held hands as they swayed to the music.
Sammie poked me in the side and then pointed toward the backstage area. “It’s Elvis.”
I only caught a glimpse, but just the sight of the impersonator made me swoon a bit.
“It’s Johnny Cash over there.” Stevie pointed toward the man dressed in black.
Wow, celebrities were everywhere. We enjoyed several more songs from Patsy. She was singing “Sweet Dreams” now. Since Elvis wasn’t due to hit the stage for another twenty minutes, I decided to take Van to my trailer. He was probably hungry and tired.
“I’m taking Van back to the trailer for his nap, Mom. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”
She nodded. “Just be careful.”
My mother always said that, no matter if I was going two steps away or cross-country. It was just her thing, I guess. Another one of her quirks. We all had them.
I headed out across the green lawn toward my pink Shasta trailer. It would be my home away from home during a craft fair. I rolled up to each venue with my pink Ford F-1 towing the tiny trailer. Both were my pride and joy. What could I say? I loved pink. Plus, it was kind of hard for me to go unnoticed with my pink mobile art studio. Everyone would remember me.
During the day, nearby wildflowers added bursts of color, but the dark of night concealed the blooms. A pale crescent moon slipped in and out of view. Music and cheers drifted across the wind. A rustling noise came from my right. Van barked. I turned my attention toward the nearby wooded area.
“Hello?” I called.
No one replied. With no other sounds, I continued toward my destination. I’d already parked my truck and trailer at the spot where I would set up my booth for the next three days. With everything mostly ready for the festivities starting tomorrow, I only needed to set up my canvases in the morning. Things would start bright and early. Surprisingly, I was a morning person, so I didn’t mind being up before sunrise.
Other vendors had set up their trailers for the sale, with most of them putting up tables and signage tonight in preparation for the event. Probably so they could sleep in just a bit longer in the morning. They weren’t the only ones with trailers around. I knew some of the other fair staff had places to stay around here, too. Like some of the celebrity impersonators. Maybe I’d run into some of them. My mom would love it if I snapped pictures of some of them.
After just a short distance more, I spotted an Elvis impersonator coming out of a trailer. He stopped at the door and looked around, as if he were trying to see if anyone watched him. For some reason, this made me hesitate. I thought he was acting kind of strange. Not wanting him to see me, I moved over to a nearby oak tree.
With Van in my arms, I hid behind the trunk, peeking around the edge. Unfortunately, it was too far to get a look at the man’s face. All I saw was the white bejeweled jumpsuit and his dark hair. Was he wearing a wig? After a few more seconds of looking around, the Elvis impersonator hurried away from the trailer.
“That was odd, Van,” I said.
He barked as if he knew exactly what I’d said. I shook off the uneasy feeling and continued across the way toward my trailer. As I passed the trailer that the Elvis impersonator had stepped out of, another strange vibe came over me. I brushed that off, too. It was probably just anxiety from the upcoming show. Or was it?
When I reached the trailer, that creepy feeling clung to me like lint on Johnny Cash’s black pants. Right away, I saw that the trailer’s door was slightly ajar. Maybe the wind had blown it open? Van’s ears perked, and he growled, sending out his telltale warning. However, the closer I got, the more I realized what I was looking at.
A man dressed in a gold suit lay on the trailer floor. Was he alive? I used my phone to shine light on the scene. Whether the man was dead or not, the circumstances surprised me. With a wire wrapped around his neck, he still clutched a doughnut in his right hand.
Photo courtesy of Bill Pressey
Rose Pressey is a USA Today bestselling author. She enjoys writing quirky and fun novels with a paranormal twist. When she’s not writing about ghosts and other supernatural creatures, she loves eating cupcakes with sprinkles, reading, spending time with family, and listening to oldies from the fifties. Rose lives near Louisville, Kentucky, with her husband, son, and three sassy Chihuahuas. Visit her on Facebook, at www.rosepressey.com, or at www.itsvintageyall.blogspot.com.